It's Not AmericaVision
by ayre-moose
Summary: England and America talk Eurovision. A.k.a, these two can fit sexual tension into *anything*. USUK Oneshot


**Summary:** England and America talk Eurovision. A.K.A, these two can fit sexual tension into _anything._

**Characters:** US, UK, a very small Finland cameo.

**Authors Note's**: Set in the right now, really. It's based around something which, as far as I'm aware, isn't too well known in America (or outside of Europe, really =p) – so, essentially, if you didn't already know, Eurovision is a massive music contest involving every European country (as far as I know). There are quarter and semi-finals, until you're left with a fair few in the final to compete in a nationally televised event, which is guaranteed to be full of cheesy pop songs and the _occasional_ good one. In it, all the different countries vote for who they want to win, which nowadays is somewhat controversial considering neighbouring/friendly countries are guaranteed to give top marks to each other, but ah well.

**Warnings:** Hyphen abuse, America written by an English person =p

**Disclaimer**: Don't own any of it.

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"Heey, England! Haven't seen you for a while, where've you been? … Are you okay? You look a bit… off… Here, have a hamburger!"

For one terrifying moment, England almost accepts the offered ball of grease and processed meat held out to him by the ever bright and cheery visage of America, (where exactly did he get it from, anyway? – does he have an ever-lasting supply of burgers somewhere on his person? ..England quickly decides it would be best not to think about that) an image which at that precise moment in time England almost finds an insult, considering how he feels, but stops himself only a split second later – he is not _that_ desperate.

"Well, in amongst other things, I've been trying so sort out the ever-growing problems with the economy, dealing with this new strain of flu that Mexico is trying hard not to give to the rest of us… oh, and I've been organising the small part of the Eurovision contest that I take up." He adds the last part on a whim – his dry attempt at humour – but what he really _doesn't _see the humour in is how on earth America is still managing to look as healthy as normal when England _knows _he is suffering the same problems as he is – as the rest of the _world_ is. It makes him wonder if maybe America is suffering more inwardly, perhaps without even realising it – but for now he doesn't dwell on it, God knows he's got enough to think about for himself as it is.

America watches England as he sinks into a nearby chair; for a moment, the hand holding the rejected burger hovers awkwardly in the air as he wonders what he should do with himself. After all, England always seems more touchy and easily annoyed when he's like this, and he doesn't want to anger him even further by making some silly, off-hand comment like, "Well, hey, I'm doing fine!" because he knows that gets on the other nation's nerves. (And it isn't entirely true, either, but America won't let England know that - not if it means that both of them will be reduced to sitting around and moping.)

… Well… America's pretty sure that he, in general, is a sure fire way to anger England, but for whatever reason he's decided to visit _him_, as opposed to any of the other nations, so maybe that's not as true as he's previously thought. Upon that realisation, a small smile plays upon his lips, and he drops easily into the chair opposite England. He decides to go for the nicer of the three given options.

"Oh, yeah, that." He replies offhandedly as he opens the rejected hamburger for himself. "You guys' little music contest."

"Yes," England murmurs, " He wonders whether he should be disappointed or relieved that America has apparently decided not to talk world issues with him. Then again, isn't that what he came here to get away from? "Our 'little music contest.'" And he knows it's coming, because even if America only knows the bare minimum about the massive, yearly event that is Eurovision, (mainly because of the fact that is essentially 'Europe'-vision and not 'America-vision') he knows one thing at least, but it still grates on his nerves regardless –

"The one you've completely bombed for the past few years, right?" The grin evident even in America's tone of voice does little to sooth the irritation that strikes through England every time it is mentioned. He may be starting to regret coming and he's hardly even been there for five minutes – it must be a new record, he thinks wearily. Still, he can't deny that his mood has lifted if only a little since he arrived, now that he has the opportunity to take his mind off things for a while.

"Yes. That one." He frowns lightly, looks up. "I've been making a very conscious effort to make sure that this year's entry is not at the standards of last years. _How_ that got past me I shall never know…"

"Well," America begins through a mouthful of burger. England despairs. "Would it have mattered anyway? The amount of times you've told me that it's all 'politically driven' now.."

"It can't hurt to try – maybe making an actual, conscious effort might get me somewhere."

America nods. "So, what's the master plan?"

"A ballad," England starts, but is immediately cut off.

"A _ballad?_" America grins humourously, and all of a sudden, the image of England in a long dress and low lighting and a night sky backdrop and dry ice invades his mind and – woah, that was weird. "Really? I never saw you as a particularly sentimental type."

"I am perfectly capable of sentimentality, thank you very much, and anyway-"

"-Anyway," America cuts in again. "I've seen one or two of these things – did you _see_ what Finland won with a few years back?!"

"It would have been rather difficult not to." England murmurs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he remembers the somewhat surreal image of hardcore Finnish rockers playing as the innocent Finland himself watched on happily. "How did it go?" America thinks for a moment. "Ah, yeah –" Each syllable of his 'singing' is punctuated by America pumping his fist (and the now small remains of the burger) enthusiastically into the air. "HARD! ROCK! HALLELUJAH!" He grins, and England can't help but to return it. But before the moment becomes too awkward, and, well, sentimental, England starts again from where he was cut off before.

"Well, this particular ballad is written by one of my more prestigious musical writers, so at least if I come bottom of the scoreboard again I can say that I tried." Of course, preferably, he would rather not be sitting in that position again this time around – it is doing bad things for his pride, England feels.

"Victory in defeat, sort of thing?" America grins like it's a joke. England picks up on it.

"Just because you aim for the top every time in every _thing_, in your insufferable way…" England quips, though not maliciously.

"Sure do!" America's grin possibly gets even bigger. He leans back in his chair. "Maybe I should gate crash one day. Seeing you guys have all the fun, n' all. And, of course, I'd come out on top!"

"I don't know who would vote for you." England replies, smiling. "I mean, neither of us are exactly top of the political popularity list right now."

"Heh, guess not." America concedes. He goes quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance, before, a little quieter than before, "I guess I'd kinda hope I'd get a vote from you, though."

The expression on America's face is somewhere between mocking and serious, and England isn't entirely sure which one he should believe. His mind goes blank for a moment as he searches for something to say.

"You idiot, that's just as bad as the rest of them." He half mumbles, looking away as he swears his face gets hotter, missing the soft smile that America briefly gives him. "Anyway," he gains his composure and looks back to America. "There's no way in hell that'd happen anyway, if you'd note the 'Euro' part of the title."

"I know, I know, I'm just joking." America grins again. Still, he files away the thought at the back of his mind, for now, for when he gets bored.

"Still…" England hesitantly begins. "I suppose… you could come and watch, if you would like."

"Huh? I've done _that_ before, you know I ha – wait." Something dawns on America. "With you?"

"I.." America can't help but notice the sudden flush apparent on England's cheeks and the sudden tightening of his grip on the chair's arm. America wants to laugh at the sudden change in the other nation's composure, but waits. He's not entirely sure what for, but something in his chest is constricting, and he can't really explain that one, either. "Yes, America. With… yes. If you want."

This time, England sees the smile.

"Sure, England. Sounds like a plan." England nods, smiles back briefly, and leans his head back against his chair, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Good… good, then. I'm sure we'll be able to work something out, closer to the time."

For a moment, in the now calm and relaxed atmosphere, England wonders if maybe now they should turn their attention to more serious things – things that are actually pertinent to the upholding of the world, rather than national pride. But no, he thinks – just for a while, he wants to be able to savour the rare opportunity of a quiet moment where it almost feels like there _are_ no troubles to turn his attentions to. And then he remembers something – he opens one eye, looking towards the sky, rather than America.

"I suppose, if it came to it.. I would vote for you," he murmurs with a humorous intonation to his voice, shifting his hands so they're lying on top of each other. He listens as America laughs softly.

"I know, England," he replies honestly. "I know."

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A/N: The song America is referencing is 'Hard Rock Hallelujah' by Lordi – not exactly your typical Eurovision entry, but it was awesome and in fact won, so check it out! Anyway, hope you enjoyed. =D


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